


A Friend In Need

by honeyedlion



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Feels, Fluff, Inappropriate Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedlion/pseuds/honeyedlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what you really need is a hug. Or something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend In Need

“You know I’m not in the market for a sidekick.” Clark says, eyes questioning over the rim of his mug. Dick swallows the tiny flare of hope to the back of his throat.

                “And I’m not looking to be one.” His voice is steady, even amused but Clark still sets his cup down and turns to face him fully. His eyes are a vibrant blue, but weighted. Heavy in a way completely different from Bruce.

                “Dick…” He says, his voice apologetic, but Dick is already looking away, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

                “No, I know. There’s nothing I could do to really help you. I get that. I just feel a little…”

                “Lost?”

                “More like abandoned?” Dick says, and as soon as it falls from his mouth he wishes he could take the emptiness of the word back. He leans back against the plush couch, letting his eyes slip closed. He feels tired.

                “He still loves you.” Clark says, and Dick’s eyes fly open at the word. He smiles a little ruefully into Kryptonian blue.

                “Bruce loves Gotham. He loves the job. He loves Alfred. He loved… Robin.” Dick smiles, halfheartedly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

                “Me?” Dick shrugs. “He tolerated me until I failed him.” The words make his throat sting. No point in reaching for his coffee to cover the reaction. Clark can hear it in his unsteady heartbeat, probably smells the salt in his eyes.

                “Bruce is an idiot.” Clark says finally, and then one impossibly large hand is lifting his chin, and tilting his head, so Clark can press a sweet but careful kiss to his lips. His mouth is soft but unsurprisingly firm, and Dick lets himself lean into the kiss for a moment, before pulling away.  He can feel  the blush, warmth spreading high on his cheeks.

                “Um. You know- Bruce and I- We didn’t, we weren’t-“

                “I know.” Clark says.

                “Okay.” Dick says a little helplessly, and sways back into the kiss.

                The kiss he is currently sharing with _Superman_ , in his _Fortress of Solitude_. Dick tries to think of a stranger thing he could be doing right now, and can’t.

                Clark’s hands grip his arms and sort of manhandle him into his lap and Dick is too busy grinding into Clark’s abs to think that hard about anything. This must be how Wally feels all the time. He reaches up and slides a hand into Clark’s hair trying to tug him closer. It sort of works, but Dick’s pretty sure that’s only because Clark lets it.

                “Slow down.” Clark says, his voice a low rumble, but he sounds pleased. “We have all afternoon.” Clark’s hand slides from his arm to the back of his neck, gripping him like a kitten and Dick makes an embarrassingly needy sound. He presses kisses to Clark’s mouth, which is smiling a little, to his jawline which smells like cheap aftershave and justice, before dropping to his neck.

                Dick pauses for a minute to lean in and breathe, and Clark makes a rumbling sound low in his chest and slides his hand in a motion to fast to follow from Dick’s neck to his ass.

                When he squeezes, hard and a little desperate, Dick makes a squeaking sort of noise, previously only pulled out of him by Kory.

                “Do you want to retire to the bedroom?”

                Clark asks, not a hair out of place. Dick feels like he just scratched a landing-unsteady, and a little tender- but he nods, probably a bit too quickly for dignity.

                Superman has tiny crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes when he smiles, and Dick feels himself twitch in his briefs.

                Clark stands up; holding him like it’s nothing. Of course to him it probably is, and Dick flushes warm at the thought, locking his legs easily around the taller man’s waist. He nips at Clark’s ear, and laughs when he’s tossed onto the bed in return, letting his body bounce and ride the movement.

                Clark looms over him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

                “How flexible are you?” He asks, and Dick grins, bright as a light bulb.

                “I can put my feet behind my head?” He tries. “I can slip out of a strait jacket, hand-cuffed?”

                “I don’t need handcuffs.” Clark says, his voice still carrying that sweet mid-western accent, so different from Gotham. Now it’s a few registers lower, deeper.

                “Oh boy.” Dick murmurs, and then Clark is on him, over him, 200 plus pounds of corn-fed superhero muscle. His skin’s smooth, soft but he has the same, well, alien feel as Kory’s, as though his fingertips can tell a difference his eyes can’t see.

                “Mmph.” Dick says, and then Clark’s hand is at his jaw, holding his mouth open so he can force his tongue in, pushing into him, again and again. “Mnm.”

                Dick sweeps his hands over a well-muscled back, and a tapered waist, to pull desperately at Clark’s belt. This is so much better than therapy.

                Clark sits up, kneeling on the bed, and pulls Dick with him, huge hands bracing his back for support. Dick almost has the buckle, despite the tongue in his mouth, when Clark takes a double handful of his jacket and tears.

                “That’s okay.” Dick tells him. “Bruce bought me that jacket.”

                “Please don’t talk about Bruce right now.” Clark says, but he’s grinning, and then he pulls the tattered remnants of his clothes away.

                “Sure, no problem, we can talk about whatever you, oh fuuuuck-“Dick babbles, as Clark’s mouth fastens onto a nipple, making him jerk forward.

                “You’re too nice to work with Batman.” Clark says, and Dick can hear the grin in his voice, and then Clark slides him flat on the bed and peels him out of his pants like they have Velcro at the seams.

                Clark stands, tugging off his own pants and then crawls back up the bed, stopping with his face eye-level, to not-so-little Dick.

                “Oh, please.” Dick breathes, his voice coming out like he’s just been punched, and Clark mouths at him through blue-plaid boxers, making the cloth wet and hot. Dick makes an embarrassing sound, and then Clark is tearing his boxers off and throwing them to the side, before closing his mouth over the head of his cock. He is warm and hot and blissfully perfect.

                “Oh.” Dick thrusts, and then slides a hand into his hair, back arching at the feel of a firm tongue sliding down the underside of his length. Clark is letting him move however he wants, and Dick guesses that if he can get pushed off a building and get up, a cock hitting the back of his throat is probably nothing.

                Clark makes a bobbing sort of motion, and Dick keens, the sound high, desperate.

                “Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait.” He says, and Clark pulls back frowning, his mouth wet with spit and precome.

                “Am I going too fast? I can-“

                “I wanna touch you.” Dick says in a rush, and Clark smiles, bright and full like the frown had never been there.

                “Sure thing.” And suddenly Dick has a whole lot of naked superhero poised above him, Clark’s mouth still planting little kisses on the top of his cock.

                “This good?”

                Clark can hear his heartbeat, and can feel the way Dick was twitching in his mouth, and still he asks. ‘Such a nice guy,’ Dick thinks, and then he opens his mouth and lets Clark slide into his throat.

                Clark is large, but not porn star large, and this isn’t exactly Dick’s first circus. He tastes hot, like clean salty skin, and when Dick bobs his head, he can feel Clark moan around him, the vibrations making his blood pulse.

                Clark thrusts in and out of his mouth easily, all of his weight held on his elbows and knees, allowing him to fuck between Dick’s lips slowly – giving Dick plenty of room to breathe. It’s terribly considerate, and if Dick knew this was going to happen, he would have tried to get fired a little earlier.

                Okay, that’s not true, but it’s still really fucking fantastic.

                A slick sound and Dick feels something else slide into Clark’s mouth, and then a blunt, slick finger drags over his balls and lower.

                Clark pulls away for a moment as though to give him time to think, and Dick pulls back as well, letting Clark’s wet length drag along the side of his face.

                “I didn’t expect you to shave.” Clark’s voice is an amused hum.

                “The suit can get really uncomfortable otherwise?” Dick says, his voice tilting into a question. “We all do it.”

                Dick thinks he hears a laugh, and then Clark’s finger is pressing into him, and he’s crying out; mind a blissful blank of sensation.

                He slips his mouth back around the other man, groaning at the feel. And he’s going to-he’s-

                Clark swallows every drop, and then pulls away, out of Dick’s sucking mouth.

                “I want to fuck you.” Clark says his voice hoarse, and honest. Dick makes a satisfied noise of agreement, and rolls over, flopping his face into the rich comforter with his ass in the air. He feels boneless, and it’s awesome.

                Clark laughs, and then a click like a bottle opening and slippery fingers are brushing the cleft of his ass, and two thick fingers are sliding into him, twisting him open. His back arches involuntarily, and he moans. A warm hand strokes the length of his spine.

                “You move like a cat.” Clark hisses voice dark and then he’s pushing into him, each centimeter a sweet slow burn.

                Dick makes a sound in his throat that might be an answer, but sounds more like a prayer, and grinds his hips desperately into the older man. Clark groans, and his hands clamp down like a vice.

                He lets go, seconds later, but Dick knows just from the feel, that he’ll have bruises for a week.

                Another push, in and out, and Dick already feels wrung out and used. He’s hard again, curved length wet and needy. He slides a hand under himself and pushes into his fist, six, seven times, and he’s coming again, wailing, feeling it to the tips of his toes.

                Clark groans, a hot hungry sound, and empties into him, thighs shaking.

                He slides out, and Dick rolls over, to give him space to flop, but Clark’s breathing has already evened out. He’s not even sweating.

                “I told you we had all afternoon.” Clark says, sliding big warm fingers through the come on Dick’s stomach.

                “Oh.” Says Dick, eyes widening, and then that’s all he really says for a while.

:

                “So… I’ll see you around?” Dick says. His hair is wet from the shower they’d shared, and everything he wears is too big and smells of Clark.

                “Sure.” Clark says, warm and easy. Dick feels loose and well-fucked, pleasantly sore, but Clark is neat as a pin. As though he hadn’t spent the last four hours trying to think of a position Dick wasn’t able to bend into.

                Dick turns to leave, but Clark’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

                “And hey. If you ever feel like stopping by I may not need a sidekick, but sometimes I could use a partner.”

                Dick isn’t sure who’s more surprised by his sudden hug, him or Clark.

**Author's Note:**

> [Fight crime](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/). Or, submit a request.


End file.
